Everything
by elphabathedelirious32
Summary: Oneshot, postmusical. As Elphaba prepares to marry Fiyero, she thinks about a promise she once made to her little sister...


Elphaba rubs the silk and lace between her green fingers, a strange expression on her angular features.

"What is it, milady?" asks Denedra, Fiyero's maid.

"It's just…I never thought…I never thought anyone would want to marry _me_, that's all." She lifts the creamy fabric to her face and holds it against her sharply boned cheek.

"I don't see why that would be, milady."

Elphaba looks at her with one eyebrow raised.

"Well-" the older woman flushes. "I have to see to some things, if I may…"

"Of course," Elphaba waves her off, unused to such solicitousness. She stares at the pale lacy gown in front of her and sighs deeply, leaning against the wall.

_"Look, Fabala," says Nessarose, eight. "It's like a wedding dress." She is holding a white frock on her lap, a confection of crepe de chine, lace edging, and an excess of ribbons. A dreamy look crosses the little girl's delicate face. "I can't wait until I get married." _

_Elphaba disguises her pained look from her little sister. She, unlike the sheltered Nessa, has been well-versed in the truth by her father during his frequent angry diatribes: neither she nor her sister will ever be married, freaks that they are, and _it is all her fault

_"Don't you ever think about your wedding?" asks Nessa. She has been schooled at home by an expensive tutor, but Elphaba has been subjected to the taunts and disdain of the village schoolchildren for most of her young life, and thus, at ten, she is far less innocent than her sister. But for a moment she allows her imaginative mind to carry her away, into what she knows is fantasy. But a wedding, for her? White looks atrocious, her father wouldn't come, much less walk her down the aisle. The only guest who would bother to come would be Nessarose. And the knowledge that no amount of imagination can do away with stabs her again and again in her young heart: _No one will ever love her.

"_No, Nessie," says Elphaba, forcing a laugh, "It's so far away yet, I can't even picture it." _

"_I can," her younger sister tells her softly. "There will be roses everywhere. White and light pink ones. My veil will be white lace, and really, really, long. I'll have six bridesmaids in pale pink, and you'll be my maid of honor, but you can wear black, if you want. Or white. We'll find something." _

_"Wow, Nessie," Elphaba smiles kindly at her sister, masking her pain for both of them. "You've really thought this out." _

_The smaller girl grins widely, pleased as always at Elphaba's approval. _

_"And I'll be the maid of honor at your wedding, too, right?" she asks, faithful brown eyes staring up trustingly at her older sister, caregiver, and best friend. _

_Elphaba kisses the top of Nessarose's light brown head. _

_"Yes, Nessie," she promises. "Of course."_

Elphaba bangs her head lightly against the wall. _Nessie_. Her baby sister is dead. Three months ago now. She and Fiyero are living, _incognito_, with his parents in "the other castle." They are to be married tomorrow, in the castle chapel, in a small ceremony. It will be beautiful. Elphaba will cry until Fiyero lifts her veil, cry silently because her little sister isn't behind her, radiating a beatific smile, _standing _in her magical shoes. Because Nessarose will never get married. Because Nessarose will never fall in love, and have that love returned. Because when they were little girls, it seemed as if Nessa would get everything that Elphaba would never have, and now it is the other way around.

Fiyero comes in, smiling.

"Hey," he says, but that's all he gets out before he notices the look on his fiancee's face.

"Oh, Elphie," he says, sitting down beside her, "there was nothing you could have done."

She shakes her head, fighting tears.

"It was all my fault," she gets out, expressing the guilt and grief she didn't have a chance to right after the fact. "Morrible did it, you know, and she never would have done it if not for me."

"No," Fiyero tells her firmly, holding her chin in his hand, making her look in his eyes. "No. _You _did what was right. You were the only one in all of Oz with enough courage to speak out before everyone, and you are _not _responsible for what those- those- _evil _people did. You are _not_. You don't get to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders anymore, Elphaba. When you're married, you have to share _everything_."

Despite herself, she laughs a little and leans into him.

"Everything?" she asks.

"Everything," he confirms, kissing her, and she tries to forget about everything else.

"_Elphie?" Nessarose, six, calls from across the bedroom the two girls share, in case Nessa needs anything during the night. "Elphie?" _

_"What is it, what's the matter?" the older girl sits up, disoriented, tendrils of black hair flying about her face where they have come loose from her braid. _

_"Nothing's wrong. Just…we _are_ sisters, right?" _

_"Of course we are, Nessa, what would make you ask that?" _

_"Well…Daddy…" _

_Elphaba pulls herself out of bed and crosses the room easily, slipping in beside her sister to comfort her. _

_"Don't listen to what he says. We are sisters, always, no matter what. We share everything, Nessie. We share our _blood._" _

_"We do?" the smaller girl asks, wide-eyed. _

_"Yes. And I'll seal it, too." Elphaba leaps from the bed and goes to her desk. She finds a small pocketknife in the drawer and carries it back to her sister. "Here." Quickly, she slits a line across her palm, leaving a slim line of blood, and does the same to Nessa, pressing their small hands, green and white, together in a hard, painful grip. "Everything," the green girl says fiercely. _

_"Everything," Nessarose repeats in an awed whisper. "Everything." _


End file.
